You Hit Me Once, I Hit You Back
by DreamerofImprobableDreams45
Summary: Nolan and Emily get into a bit of a...scuffle. It takes an interesting turn. Rated T/M for some not-so-child-friendly language and some themes of a suggestive nature. Not for those child readers out there. One-Shot/Complete.


A/N: Taking a break from studying for upcoming exams to write this little piece. Heard this song on Pandora and couldn't help but think how much this song would really work for everyone's favorite non-couple, Nolan and Emily. Couldn't resist ;)

_A kiss with a fist is better than none._

_(__**Kiss With a Fist, Florence and the Machine)**_

* * *

"Well you certainly _fucked_ that one up, didn't ya Ems?" He snaps, throughly infuriated. He turns his attention away from his computer to look at his blonde haired partner in crime. She doesn't flinch.

He huffs disgustedly and redirects his eyes to the computer.

They watch as the scene unfolds on the small, rectangular computer screen. Nolan cringes as he watches a tall, lithe man in a dark as night track-suit land a painful kick to the abdomen of one wounded Jack Porter of the Stowaway Bar in Montauk.

Emily doesn't respond to his question and shuts the computer, not wanting to watch the horrific show any longer. She moves to get up and walks across the wooden floor to the kitchen. She pulls a bottle of Scotch from a cabinet beside the refrigerator and picks up two clean glasses from the dishwasher. She splashes the golden liquid into her glass and a bit into the next for her houseguest. She raises the cup to her lips and downs the alcohol in one swallow.

"Ems, that wasn't just another case of 'revengy collateral damage.'" Nolan says, still furious. He stalks over to the kitchen. "He's my friend and yours too. You can't keep letting people be pulled into your vicious game. People are getting hurt!" He slams his fist against the counter, agitating the glass of Scotch. It rolls off the side of the kitchen furniture and crashes to the floor, glass shattering upon impact.

Neither party acknowledges the mess.

"You think I don't understand that?" She asks, her eyes narrowed and her voice deadly soft. "You think I meant for that to happen, Nolan?"

He takes a few more daring steps forward until he's within spitting distance of her. "Well you standing here in your lovely little cottage in the Hamptons enjoying an evening cocktail instead of being over there bailing Jack out certainly sends the wrong kind of message." He responds, sarcasm flowing evenly into his tone.

He doesn't see the fist until it hits him square in the nose. He reels back, tumbling over a side table, landing on the floor flat on his back. Blood streams from where her hand collided with his face, painting his pale lips crimson.

He's momentarily blinded by the stab of pain that shoots through his head as it connects with the floor. He hears glass crunch underfoot and feels a sudden pressure on his waist. It's Emily, straddling him and pinning his arms to the floor.

"Don't you think for a single moment that I ever intended Jack to be involved in any of this." She growls, fiercely.

Something inside Nolan snaps like a twig. Within a span of seconds, the roles have been reversed, and it is Emily who is now entrapped by his body. He wipes the blood from his face with the sleeve of his already ruined dress shirt.

They stare at each other for the next couple of minutes, hatred reflected in both of their eyes. Neither of them says a single word.

And then something peculiar happens. Instead of pushing Nolan off her trapped form, she welcomes him by reaching up and planting a kiss on his tainted lips.

At first he's not sure how to respond, his lips limp against her own. But then, as his body takes over, he pulls her from underneath him and places her into his lap. He threads his fingers through her light hair, his thumbs ghosting over the soft skin of her face.

Emily, not wishing to be outdone, takes up the position of straddling his thin waist once more. She rocks herself over his lap, drawing a low moan from the man beneath her. She feels his arousal pressing at her underneath her summery skirt and smiles deviously.

Nolan chuckles, the sound vibrating against her lips. He removes his hand from her hair and replaces them against the exposed flesh at her waist. His hands slide up until they rest just below the fabric of her bra. He teasingly runs his fingers over the front of the material, earning a groan from his blonde friend.

She reluctantly pulls herself back to look at him. "What are we doing, Nolan?" She asks, her arms still encircled around his neck.

"I think you were showing me a new attack maneuver called, 'How To Seduce Your Opponents in Three Easy Steps." He replies, jokingly.

She rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth are upturned in the beginnings of a smile. "If were going to do this, we aren't going to do it on the floor of my kitchen. I eat here." She says, her voice a breathy whisper.

He smiles. "Enough said." He snakes his hand behind him and gathers up her legs. He grabs her by the waist and picks her up, collecting her into his arms like she's his bride.

She places her hand on his chest to stop him. "You seem to forgetting about what you were so furious about before." She gently reminds him.

He sighs. "Jack. What do you say we put a pin in this and go help out our miserably defeated friend?" He replies as he puts her back on solid ground.

"Feeling that lucky, Nolan?" She says, arching an eyebrow. She grabs her jacket off the back of the couch and slips her arms through the sleeves.

He chuckles once more and procedes to drop a kiss to her lips that emits enough passion to make the almighty Emily weak in the knees.

"Luck's got nothing to do with it, my wonderfully vengeful friend."

* * *

So...like it? Hate it? Questions? Comments? Concerns?

You know what to do :)

(Hint: it rhymes with 'Pew'!)


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